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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30053856">A Slice of Heaven</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/kekinkawaii/pseuds/kekinkawaii'>kekinkawaii</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Crack, M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-16 03:14:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,783</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30053856</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/kekinkawaii/pseuds/kekinkawaii</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is tired and cranky and just wants to eat the free pie offered by his campus for Pi Day, except a certain stranger has his eyes set on the very last slice, too—and he isn’t backing off.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>51</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Slice of Heaven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I'm technically a day late but Happy Pi Day! Here's a crack/fluff fic I wrote because I was craving pie lol.</p><p>Enjoy! &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was dark and late by the time Castiel finally packed up his things and began to head back to his residence from the library, which was allocating its flexible opening and closing times as exam season drew everlastingly near like a tiger stalking a campus full of terrified, sleep-deprived baby lambs. Castiel was tired and cranky from the coffee that burnt his tongue that morning and the skidded patch of water on his way into study hall that afternoon to catch up on all his Monday-due assignments, and he hadn’t even had the chance to go back to his dorms even once since that morning, and to top it all off, his group project partners (teacher-picked and assigned, which <em> never </em>went well in Castiel’s favour) had bailed on him to go bar hopping—who went bar hopping on a Sunday night?—leaving Castiel to trudge himself into the library, set down a plethora of textbooks, and grind out a half-finished exoskeleton of an assignment through the skin of his teeth.</p><p>He was half tempted to scrap the whole thing and drag the rest of his group down with him, but it was 10PM and the air was crisp and chilly when he got outside, and his eyes stung like the devil and struggled weakly to adjust to the inky darkness of the outdoors, and he’d already gone this far. Stacy-Adam-Jonathan were good people who were just chock-full of excessive energy and needed to drain it with copious amounts of drugs and alcohol, and Castiel could respect that. Really. Even if he’d finished all their work, including the title page that he graciously asked Adam to take on in the document that he most likely hadn’t even opened. </p><p>But that was all just fine. It was 10PM and all Castiel wanted to do was to go home, take a half-addled shower, and fall into a blissful sleep before his 8AM classes the next morning reset the cycle all over again.</p><p>The walk to his residence was quiet, almost charming in its tranquility. He could hear crickets and the faint croaking of a toad, probably near the pond near the East wing. By the time Castiel reached the building, flooded under the yellowed lights, his crawling irritation had settled into a stirring, rueful acceptance.</p><p>He walked over to the elevators, pressed <em> up, </em>and stood in silence watching the neon-lit numbers slowly tick downwards.</p><p>His eyes, drifting lazily, caught on something next to the panel. A poster. </p><p><em> Happy Pi Day! </em> It read in a blocky, video game-esque font. <em> 3/14, </em>it helpfully added on the bottom, beneath a picture of, also helpfully, a steaming slice of pie with cherry-red filling oozing out from the cracks in the crust. </p><p>
  <em> To celebrate, we will be giving out free pie in the second floor lobby throughout the whole day, baked by our very own cafeteria! Don’t forget to swing by and grab yourself a slice! </em>
</p><p>The elevator dinged cheerfully. Castiel entered the elevator, and then, after a moment’s hesitation, pressed on the button for the second floor.</p><p>What the hell. He deserved some pie today.</p><p>A few short seconds later, the elevator lurched gently beneath his feet, and the doors swung open. Castiel stepped out, and, feeling anticipation building with each step, made his way towards the lobby. Maybe they had blueberry—that was his favourite. The cafeteria cooks were incredible with their pastries, and Castiel could feel his mouth watering by the time he entered the lobby. Was it just his imagination, or could he actually smell the pie?</p><p>It wasn’t. The scent grew stronger as he turned the corner, buttery caramelized dough and the fruity, tart bursts of berries filling his nose. Rejuvenated, Castiel made his way towards the tables—and then stalled, steps slowing, as he took in the sight.</p><p>Pie tins littered the tables, empty and crumb-spackled, upturned on the tablecloth and all over the floor. Stray napkins spread themselves all around the aftermath. At the end, there was a girl—blonde hair tied back in a loose, fraying bun.</p><p>She looked utterly, completely exhausted, but raised her head upon hearing Castiel’s entrance, and even had the courtesy leftover to pipe up with a quiet, “Hi there! Happy Pi Day!”</p><p>“Hello,” Castiel said, and then, trying not to sound pitying, “How are you?”</p><p>Judging by her wry smile, he didn't conceal it very well. “Oh, you know, the usual. Offer free food—free <em> pie—</em>and the whole campus is suddenly chock-full of school spirit.”</p><p>Castiel smiled back. “I can imagine,” he said. “I just hope no one tried to throw any of them.”</p><p>“So did I,” the girl said, raising her eyebrows.</p><p>“Ah.” Castiel winced.</p><p>“Yup. The janitor wasn’t happy. I did offer her two slices of pie, though, as compensation.”</p><p>Castiel nodded sagely. “So, you, um—” He fell into an awkward silence, sidling between different choices of phrasing so that it wouldn’t come out as <em> Sorry about dealing with pie-greedy college students the whole day, now give me my pie</em>.</p><p>The girl rolled her eyes, but it wasn’t scathing and the smile was still playing, lightly, on her face.</p><p>“It’s fine, dude,” she said. “I get it. It’s pie. If I hadn’t had, like, five pieces already, I’d probably be demanding it right about now too.”</p><p>Waving off Castiel’s grateful look, she ducked down and disappeared below the counter, and then popped back up, a beaten-up covered pie tin in her hands. “Luckily for you, after things started really ramping up, we started to hide them under the counters. And, even luckier, we only have one slice left.”</p><p>She pried open the tin cover and it clattered, forgotten, onto the floor. Castiel looked down at the pie tin in her hands and saw a single slice of blueberry pie. It was drooping and melting and probably had seen better days or even years, but in Castiel’s exhaustion-riddled eyes it was the most glorious sight he’d ever seen.</p><p>“You want a plate?” she said. “A fork, maybe?”</p><p>“Yes, please,” Castiel said, every cell in his body yearning towards the slice of buttery, sweet perfection.</p><p>The girl clucked her tongue. “Too bad. We ran out.”</p><p>“Oh.” Castiel floundered. “I have some utensils up in my dorm, maybe—”</p><p>“What’s your name?”</p><p>“Castiel,” Castiel said, startled at the non-sequitur.</p><p>“Cool. I’m Beth.” Beth put her hands together and gave Castiel a hard, long look. “Castiel, I saw my Computer Science prof come in an hour ago, and he barely even used his hands. No judgement here.”</p><p>Castiel watched Beth, stunned. “Seriously?”</p><p>“Yup. It’s really good pie, man.”</p><p>“I’ll take your word for it,” Castiel said. “But I think I’d rather take this up into my dorm to eat.” Maybe he could even warm it up in the microwave, pile on a bit of the leftover ice cream he had in his minifridge, and God he needed that pie <em>yesterday. </em>“I’ll just take the whole tin, then? Since there’s only one slice left?”</p><p>“No, you won’t,” a new voice said from inches behind him.</p><p>Castiel whirled around and came face-to-face with a stranger with messy, close-cropped hair and freckles and green eyes that were currently glaring absolute <em> daggers </em> at him.</p><p>The newcomer shifted his attention to Beth, and Castiel watched his face change—eyes softening, peering up at her through his lashes, lips tilting up into a charming smile.</p><p>“Hey there,” the man said. “I’m Dean Winchester. What’s your name?”</p><p>“Beth,” Beth stammered.</p><p>Dean winked. “Nice to meet you, Beth. I heard you’ve got some pie for me.” </p><p>Beth ate it up, her cheeks going pink as she giggled at Dean. Castiel immediately decided that he hated him.</p><p>“Well—” Beth began, her voice breathy.</p><p><em> “Actually,” </em>Castiel cut in swiftly, “she doesn’t. Because there’s only one slice left, and I was here first.”</p><p>Dean turned to Castiel, the residual look in his eyes still dark and heated, and Castiel gritted his teeth at the flush that threatened to make its way up his face. He’d barely even known Dean for a minute and he already knew that he was such an <em> asshole, </em>damn it, it wasn’t going to happen.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Dean said, “But I think that’s <em> Beth’s </em>choice, isn’t it? After all, she’s the one giving it out.”</p><p>Castiel fought back the urge to just snatch the tin and run away. “Beth, what do you think?” he asked, faux-polite. “I was here first, wasn’t I?”</p><p>“Um—well—”</p><p>“Beth, Beth, Beth,” Dean campaigned. “Did you know pie’s my favourite food?” </p><p>“Oh,” Beth said, stammering.</p><p>“Beth—” Castiel said.</p><p>“Let the girl decide herself, Cas,” Dean drawled. Castiel glared icily and struggled to control himself from taking the tin of pie and smashing it into Dean’s face, because then he wouldn’t have the pie to eat which was rightfully his, <em> damn it. </em></p><p>Beth looked a little overwhelmed, her eyes darting back and forth between the two of them. Like a fish trapped between two bloodthirsty sharks, she decided on the best strategy for survival: retreat.</p><p>“I think you two can work it out on your own,” Beth said. “I don’t—listen, I’m just here for the volunteer hours. I’m actually supposed to leave, now, so here you go—” She shoved the pie tin towards the two of them. “Have fun. Nice seeing you guys. Happy Pi Day!”</p><p>With a flustered smile and a wave, Beth heaved her backpack up onto her shoulders and strolled away.</p><p>“You too!” Dean called out after her, and then turned back towards the tables, hands reaching towards the tin.</p><p>Feeling something within himself strain and snap with the sudden stroke of heady desperation, Castiel grabbed Dean by the shoulders and, ignoring Dean’s protests, walked them into the corner where both of them were safely out of reach from the slice of pie.</p><p>He should have just ignored him. He should have just left the instant he caught sight of Dean’s little smirk and flashing green eyes. But it was 10PM and Castiel was so very tired, cranky, and <em> hungry, </em>too, now, so he set his jaw and squared his shoulders and met Dean’s eyes straight-on, prepared for a verbal showdown.</p><p>Dean paused for a moment, then raised his eyebrows at Castiel. “We’ve only just met, don’t you think we’re moving a little too fast?”</p><p>Castiel froze, and then snatched his hands off of Dean’s shoulders like they were burned.</p><p>“Listen, Dean,” Castiel said. “I have had a really, <em> really </em> bad day, and I really, <em> really </em>need that slice of pie.”</p><p>Dean pursed his lips, arched an eyebrow. “Well, <em> Cas. </em> I have also had a really, <em> really </em>bad day, and I would really appreciate a slice of pie as well.”</p><p>“I was here first,” Castiel said emphatically.</p><p>“Yeah, well, I took the stairs, so maybe I was inside the building before you, which would mean <em> I </em>was here first.”</p><p>“That’s not how it works.”</p><p>“That’s totally how it works.”</p><p>“That pie is rightfully mine.”</p><p>Dean, to Castiel’s complete infuriation, was smiling. “Mm, nah. I think I should have it instead.”</p><p>Castiel could feel his face going red, and for once it was out of pure frustration and nothing else. “You are <em> insufferable,” </em>he said.</p><p>“Thanks, sweetheart,” Dean said. “How ‘bout I take my pie and leave, then, to put you out of your suffering?” He patted Castiel’s cheek and winked. Grinning, now.</p><p>“For <em> heaven’s </em>sake,” Castiel said, and in that instant, he gave up. “You know what? Fine. You really want that pie so badly that you’re willing to go to such—such irrational and childish degrees in your argument? Fine.”</p><p>Castiel pushed Dean’s shoulders, and, when Dean didn’t sway, shoved instead.</p><p>Dean stepped back, not because of Castiel’s actions but rather out of surprise instead. “Hey, wait—”</p><p>Ignoring him, Castiel stomped over to the table, grabbed the pie tin, and then shoved it towards Dean. “Have it, then. I hope it tastes <em> fantastic.” </em></p><p>“Cas, just hold on—”</p><p>Castiel was halfway out the lobby and refused to look back. His footsteps echoed through the halls, and when the elevator let loose with its chirping, optimistic <em> ding! </em> it sounded with finality.</p><p>Fuck Dean Winchester and fuck his pie. Castiel hated Pi Day.</p><p> </p><p>The next morning, Castiel woke up with a relentless headache dully throbbing at his temple, which was just unfair, because he hadn’t had a <em> drop </em>of alcohol since Friday night. He got dressed and went to class, chugging coffee like water until the fuzz cleared from his brain.</p><p>In Economics class, he finally summoned enough courage to give his group project partners a piece of his mind. It was met with a shocking compliance—Adam even offered to give Castiel a bag of weed as apology, which, in Adam’s language, pretty much was on level par with a love declaration.</p><p>By the end of the day, Castiel was feeling much, much better. He was almost whistling by the time he walked back to his residence, Monday’s classes being light enough that he could grant the short trip back to his dorm for a home-cooked meal or, if he needed it, a quick nap.</p><p>He was almost there, winding around the campus-kept garden with the just-emerging tulip buds for Spring, when he heard the hurried footsteps from behind him.</p><p>“Castiel! Wait!”</p><p>Castiel turned, and he didn’t know what he was expecting but it certainly wasn’t Dean Winchester, waving his arms frantically as he leaped over a flower bush and trampled the tulip buds. The gardener would strangle him if she saw, Castiel thought vaguely.</p><p>Once he was mere paces from Castiel, Dean slowed, pausing to rest his hands on his knees as he caught his breath. He looked significantly more put-together than last night, eyes bright green in the sunlight, and it did nothing to squash the flutter of attraction in Castiel’s stupid head. <em> Asshole, </em>Castiel reminded himself.</p><p>“Dean,” Castiel said slowly. “Why are you here?”</p><p>Dean wilted at that. He ran a hand through his hair and grimaced.</p><p>“I came to apologize,” he said, making a move to step closer before thinking better of it and keeping his distance. “I was a dick last night. It’s just, I didn’t have time to eat all day and pie is <em> actually </em> my favourite food, like seriously <em> damn, </em> and I just. I guess I just really, <em> really </em>wanted that pie. Anyway, I shouldn’t have taken it from you. You totally earned that pie. It wasn’t even that good, it was all cold and mushy and the whole time I was eating it I just felt really bad because you’re probably the cutest guy I’ve ever seen at campus in all my four years and I just blew my chances because of a stale mediocre slice of pie.”</p><p>“Oh,” Castiel said intelligently.</p><p>Dean grimaced again. “Sorry. Again. Sometimes I say the wrong things at the wrong times. And sometimes I need to realize that someone isn’t flirting with me, and actually just wants his goddamn pie.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Castiel said, and his head was in the clouds, now, or maybe trampled neatly underneath Dean’s boots along with all the flowerbuds. “You thought I was flirting?”</p><p>“Like I said,” Dean said, his face cherry-red. “I’m an idiot and an asshole when I’m hungry. And sometimes when I’m not, either. I know I’m not making the best impression right now, but I just wanted to say sorry for anything I said. Or anything I’m saying. I’m not trying to make you reconsider me as a person, or date, or whatever. Even though that would be nice. Can you just punch me now so I shut up?”</p><p>“I have a better idea,” Castiel said.</p><p>“You do?” Dean said.</p><p>Castiel stepped in close enough to cup Dean’s face, and gently nudged his chin. Their lips met softly, cautiously—just a taste before Castiel was drawing away.</p><p>Dean stared at Castiel, his mouth slightly open.</p><p>“I accept your apology,” Castiel said.</p><p>Dean tried to speak, made a faint creaky noise; tried again.</p><p>“Great,” he said, voice hoarse. “Good.”</p><p>Castiel smiled.</p><p>“I’m usually much smoother than this, I promise,” Dean said.</p><p>Castiel laughed. “I’m sure.”</p><p>“Get dinner with me,” Dean said abruptly, like the words sprung out of his mouth unbidden. “I’ll buy you dinner to make up for the pie. Hell, I’ll bake you a whole ass pie if you want to. Way better than that cafeteria crap.”</p><p>“I think that’s a brilliant idea,” Castiel informed him.</p><p>Dean grinned, and then, with trepidation in his eyes, leaned in to kiss Castiel again. Castiel tilted his head and wound his arms around Dean and kissed him back and thought that this was <em> much </em> better than pie.</p>
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